216 Hours to Rewrite the World
by Windsett
Summary: On a Friday morning Sugar Rush was delivered to the arcade, and Turbo escaped into it. Nine days later he had not only dethroned its true ruler and transformed himself into King Candy, but had rewritten the rules of an entire world.


**AN: This happened because I was jotting some random ideas down, and then thought I should try and organise them. And maybe if I ever did write a story including any of those ideas, I could try out a different writing style when doing so. Then before I knew it a good few hours had passed, and I'd somehow written all this!**

* * *

On the Friday morning, Sugar Rush was delivered to Litwak's Family Fun Centre and Arcade.

With a smile Mr. Litwak fenced off the console from the curious looks of the players swarming around it, and not one of their pleas could make him reveal its covering, let alone turn it on.

For the gamers it was a tease, but for Turbo it was lifeline.

Until now no game had met his specific requirements, and as soon as Sugar Rush's plug was inserted into Game Central Station Turbo made his move. Just like with Road Blasters he moved stealthily through the shadows, and slipped into the game before the surge protector could stop him. There hadn't been barrier warnings back then, but he entered Sugar Rush before its red grid could be installed and activated. He'd always been quick to act, and even without a kart he was deadly fast.

Some had said he acted rashly because of his quick temper, but Turbo knew he simply seized opportunities others were too slow to grasp.

* * *

On the early Friday evening, Turbo eventually found Sugar Rush's code room.

The console had been switched on to standby mode to charge up, but was not yet activated. This game's code was far more complex than anything his own game had ever had, and it took Turbo all night to understand its main components. His eyes watered as he watched the flashing streams of blue binary, and his head hurt as he tried to manipulate them. His heart raced that he would fail, and his stomach heaved that he would be left homeless again.

He felt exhausted and stretched thin, and for the first time ever began to doubt himself.

* * *

On the Saturday morning, Turbo knew that he had failed.

Sugar Rush had been fully charged up but not yet introduced to the players. Alongside the scenery and buildings, Princess Vanellope and her merry group of racers had flickered and sparkled into existence. They had already begun to explore their world in a cloud of sugar dust and squeals, and the code streams in Turbo's hands pulsed blue and bright, as they were finally asked to do something they were meant to. Turbo's eyes stung and he couldn't think straight, so it was a while before a small green ball came into focus.

Sour Bill was suspiciously willing to explain the game's code to him, including the King Candy design. Apparently King Candy was originally meant to be a regular racer, but at the last minute the game's programmers had decided his appearance didn't fit in with all the young racers, and had scrapped him. But in the rush to erase his character before the game was shipped out worldwide, some lines of code had been forgotten.

Perhaps Sour Bill had taken an instant dislike to Princess Vanellope, or had already been mistreated by her. Perhaps Bill was simply bored, or confused, or programmed to obey anyone in charge. Perhaps he was the game's bad guy, and would naturally ally himself with a fellow villain. But Turbo wasn't a villain, so it couldn't be that explanation.

Turbo couldn't figure out why Sour Bill would reveal a game's inner secrets to a complete stranger, but he didn't really care.

* * *

On the Saturday evening, Turbo finished splicing King Candy's design code with his own.

Tethered to the rope he spun freely in the code room's gravity-less void, his bright costume shining, and was quite pleased with the result. He then bowed royally and gratefully to Sour Bill, and promised him a part of the game to rule over as a reward for his help. Flushed with pride and success, Sour Bill left to prepare drinks. Turbo straightened himself, wiped the smile from his face and hacked away at Bill's own code box. He needed someone by his side, but he didn't need an equal.

It's not like he'd ever _had_ an equal to begin with.

* * *

On the Sunday morning, Turbo finished locking away everyone's memories.

He'd tried and failed many times to delete its true ruler, Princess von Schweetz, but the game stubbornly refused to give her up. But no matter; a stuttering grey line of jagged code informed him that she was now a glitch, which must mean she was harmless. No-one, not even herself, knew she was the game's programmed leader, so he didn't have to worry about that. Turbo propelled himself down from the code room, locked the door behind him, and sauntered happily through the throne room.

Maybe he'd head over to the bakery, and make himself a kart.

* * *

On the Sunday afternoon, Turbo organised the first race before Sugar Rush's grand arcade opening at 6pm.

Everyone was present at the starting line, excited and nervous and raring to go, including Vanellope. Turbo was side by side with her at the front of the pack, and couldn't help but admire her gleaming white kart. Maybe he shouldn't have added so much red to his own white creation.

The starting sequence began, the racers primed their engines, and then they were off.

And it was better than Turbo had dared hoped for.

The track was fast and challenging and set fire to his blood. His heart soared as he hurtled around a chocolate covered bend, and it pounded hard as he shifted up a gear and floored the accelerator. The wind whipped his face as he tore down a slope, the other racers in his rear view mirror, and it was all he could do not to scream out his catchphrase in exhilaration. This was what he was created to do, what he was _meant_ to do, and he'd never felt so elated. He crossed the finish line in a winning blur, the roars of the candy people ringing in his ears, and was content to never want anything more than this.

But then Vanellope crossed the line, and everything changed.

To Turbo's horror the game shuddered violently the instant Vanellope crossed the finish line, and with his mouth open he watched pixels and sparkles engulf them all. The racers screamed and looked at him as if he was a monster sent to devour them, but it was Vanellope who made him suck in his breath and widen his eyes.

Still driving fast, Vanellope shimmered and transformed into a regal looking princess. She looked down at the dress she was now wearing, and gasped deeply as her memories flooded back. She then locked eyes with Turbo, and a split second later she violently pulled up the handbrake and yanked the steering wheel to the right. Her tyres smoked as her handbrake turn put the kart into a skid, threatening to send it spinning out of control. But Vanellope was also a born racer, and she expertly changed direction without losing an inch of speed or control. She gunned the accelerator for all its worth and, kicking up dirt, aimed straight for Turbo.

Her eyes were narrowed, and her teeth were bared.

Turbo's reactions were just as sharp, and he accelerated away quickly. He sped back to the castle with Vanellope in close pursuit, all the while feeling a toxic mixture of fear and anger churn in his gut. He crashed straight through the spear wielding ranks of Oreo guards like a bowling ball through skittles, and barely had time to thank his luck that the large door was already open as he raced to the throne room.

Wynnchel and Duncan hurtled themselves out of Turbo's way as he skidded to a halt and, before the kart had stopped moving, he jumped out, stumbled, and ran for the code vault. Vanellope had raced into the room just as he made it behind the curtains, her threats and promises loud and echoing as she searched for him. With fumbling fingers Turbo dug the Tapper's napkin from his pocket, and entered the konami code in haste. With a hiss the code room door opened, and Vanellope screamed at what she'd found. Heaving with all his strength Turbo pulled the door shut just as Vanellope crashed into it. He staggered back as she pounded and kicked it and sent vibrations shuddering throughout the code vault itself.

Taking a deep breath Turbo immediately launched himself into the inky black void, self-preservation and instinct overriding any security measures such as using the grounding rope. The code boxes had exploded in a dazzling mess of pixels and binary, and Turbo had to shield his eyes against their almost blinding light.

When his vision finally adjusted, he couldn't shake off the feeling that the code streams were flashing in accusation at him.

They were flashing in dark blue denunciation, and pulsing in stuttering silver warning, and screaming that he really should turn back now.

* * *

On the early Sunday evening, Sugar Rush had seemed to malfunction just as the first player had sat down and inserted their quarter.

The screen had glitched and pixelated, and when it had settled half the characters were missing from the start up line. Those racers that had remained had run about crazily, and it was almost as if faint screams could be heard underneath the blaring theme tune music.

With an over-exaggerated smile Mr. Litwak had apologised and explained that this was just a teaser, and a mean one at that, but Sugar Rush wasn't really open just yet, he was sorry if they thought otherwise, and could everyone please step back and play something else until its _real_ opening time came.

Mr. Litwak had covered the console back up, switched it back to standby mode, and wondered where the warranty letter for the game was. He'd found it on his desk and sworn silently when he'd read it. The company wasn't available for contact until at least a week, thanks to some flash marketing scheme throughout the country that, apparently, required every member of staff to participate in. He'd paid good money for this game, and wasn't about to give it up without a fight. Sighing in semi-defeat, he decided to hang onto it and call someone to exchange the console with a new one in a week's time.

More out of habit than anything else, Mr. Litwak had then slipped a hand under Sugar Rush's cover and slapped an orange out of order sign on Player One's screen.

* * *

On the late Sunday evening, Turbo finished re-programming Sugar Rush.

The second time had been quicker, but was just as mentally draining.

Exhausted from sustained concentration and a steady stream of adrenaline, Turbo wearily left the code room. He felt like his head was caught in an iron vice, and he started in shock at seeing Vanellope's face staring into his own. He'd not thought she'd still be there waiting for him, and his over-worked heart threatened to kick up a gear again. But Vanellope was different, and with a fierce rush of relief Turbo knew that his efforts had worked.

She looked at him blankly, and it was obvious she didn't remember anything. Her face was clear but confused, and in the kindest voice he could manage, Turbo took her hand and promised her that she'd be alright. Her King would look after her, and ensure she didn't get into any more trouble. He gripped her fingers tightly, and led her into one of the spare rooms to sleep.

Turbo then walked back to the throne room, and ran a finger along the side of Vanellope's royal white kart. It needed a few adjustments first, but then this kart would be fit for him. He drove it back out of the castle with a mind to take it to the bakery, but before he'd even left the shadow of the castle he saw that the world was bathed in a soft orange glow.

Abandoning the kart, he rushed back inside. He knew what that ominous orange glow over the game's screen meant.

It meant that he had work to do.

* * *

On the Monday morning, Turbo regretfully informed Vanellope that she was a glitch.

She'd progressed through disbelief and fear to distress and anger, and Turbo had been prepared to offer her sanctuary in the castle until a spark of her true self blazed in her eyes.

He'd ordered his security guards to prepare the fungeon, and belatedly realised he shouldn't have said this in front of Vanellope, because she glitched in fright and dodged his outstretched arms.

She ran out of the castle, tears in her eyes and her face set, and Turbo shouted until his throat hurt.

* * *

On the Monday evening, Turbo still didn't know where Vanellope was.

Wynnchel and Duncan had been appropriately punished, and even Sour Bill had asked a question at the wrong time and suffered.

Turbo looked in the mirror at his reflection, and saw that the rims of his eyes were glowing yellow. Vanellope wasn't the only one with a true self hidden underneath, and if she could exercise hers then he could certainly show some of his.

He was Turbo, the greatest racer the world had ever known, and he wasn't about to let a little glitch of a nobody ruin the life he had waited years for.

* * *

On the Tuesday morning, Turbo told the racers that Vanellope was a dangerous glitch.

He gathered them at the start of a race and, his words heavy with sadness and regret, explained that he had banished her. He then issued a decree that she could no longer race, because if the players saw that there was still a glitch then they'd think the game was still broken. Then the console would be unplugged fully instead of just being turned off, and everyone would be left homeless and abandoned.

Candlehead had expressed sympathy for the poor glitch, and before Turbo could say anything Taffyta had kicked her, and asked her sharply if she really wanted everyone to die? Suitably cowed, Candlehead shook her head silently, and shuffled behind Taffyta.

The other racers looked on uncomfortably, and Turbo made a mental note to upgrade Taffyta's kart.

He could do with a decent competitor to race against every now and again.

* * *

On the Tuesday evening, Turbo visited the code vault again.

With the game out of action, he had some free time on his hands.

Three hours later he still couldn't destroy Vanellope's code, but he had increased the number of connections in his own code box. He'd also discovered that only nine players per day were allowed to be avatars, and that to ensure a fair selection they must be chosen at random. With a twitch Turbo found that he'd torn certain parts of that selection code beyond all repair, and would never know the game's intended method of character selection. But it was no matter, because he'd already thought of a selection method. It wasn't random, but it was fair.

Nothing in life that was random was ever fair, and he wasn't about to turn his back on that hard learned lesson.

* * *

On the Wednesday morning, Turbo explained the Random Roster Race.

Every racer would take a spot on the starting line-up, and it was first come first served. If that wasn't fair, he didn't know what was. As soon as someone had taken a position their name would be added to the big viewing screen, and the appropriate block of candy people would cheer their support. They would all race, and the first nine past the finish line would be the avatars for the next day's race.

Simple, straightforward and fair.

* * *

On the Wednesday evening, Turbo announced the first Roster Race would take place at 7pm.

It wasn't a real one, since Sugar Rush was still not playable, but it would be good for everyone to practice.

Turbo watched everyone scuffle for places with a calm detachment. He had arrived at the starting line up at 6pm, to guarantee himself first place. Sour Bill had drawled, somewhat nervously, that an hour was a long time to wait, and wasn't he bored? Didn't the King have better things to do? Did His Highness instead want his loyal subject to save him his place? To Bill's surprise and relief his King had smiled, thanked him, refused his offer, and patted him on the head.

If something important needed to be done, Turbo would do it himself. It's not as if he could ever fully trust anyone here. And besides, he had waited in the shadows for years to take the crown, so an hour on a racetrack was nothing.

The race unfolded smoothly, and at the end of the day Turbo retired to the castle. He drove his kart to the back of the throne room and, after triple checking that he was alone, finally let out a breath and allowed himself to relax. His muscles loosened painfully, and cramped at the sudden release of tension.

Turbo closed his eyes, and wondered if it would always be like this.

* * *

On the Thursday morning, Turbo informed everyone another Random Roster Race would be held at 6pm this evening.

Everyone nodded – some in excitement, some in hesitation, but all of them in acceptance.

* * *

On the Thursday evening, Turbo arrived at the starting line to find Vanellope already there.

She was sitting patiently in her royal white and gold kart, its sugar crystals sparkling in the sun and the two banners at the back flapping loosely in the breeze.

Turbo clenched his fists in rage that he had forgotten to destroy that kart. He'd last left it parked outside the castle when he realised the out of order sign had been put on the game, and had forgotten all about it. Vanellope must have crawled out of wherever she'd been hiding and, thinking all her birthdays had come at once, found it just sitting there. The girl didn't know the kart's true significance, and just saw it as a way to compete and race.

Turbo looked around sharply for his doughnut cops and, already planning a suitable punishment for his useless Oreo guards, found himself doing a double-take as his gaze passed over the large viewing screen. His chest tightened, and he felt the blood drain from his face.

Vanellope's name was sitting proudly at the top, with all other lines underneath it blank and waiting. The game had registered her presence, and she had been entered into the race.

With a snarl Turbo accelerated towards her, and all memories of his failed attempts to kill her deserted him. He wanted to crush her and delete her, and have no further reminders of a ruler that didn't deserve their status.

But Vanellope had anticipated this, and she glitched out of the way with ease. Turbo performed a perfect handbrake spin and, in a shimmering cloud of sugar dust, spun around to face her. No sooner had his kart aligned itself, he crunched it into gear and stamped hard on the accelerator. He shot towards Vanellope in a bullet of white and red, but again she glitched out of his way.

Turbo slammed on the brakes and pulled the steering wheel and spun around again. The maneuverer wasn't executed as slickly this time, and Turbo closed his eyes against the chunks of ground that he'd dislodged. The kart rocked precariously on its suspension, before it balanced and settled down with a thump.

Turbo faced Vanellope silently and squarely.

The only sounds were the steady purr of their engines ticking over, and the faint squeals of a group of racers playing over the hill.

Vanellope regarded him calmly, and Turbo felt the first prickles of fear that she would cross the finish line and have her memories restored again. A thin trickle of sweat escaped from his helmet covered head and crawled down his back, and his mind whirled as he tried to think of a way out of this.

When he saw Sour Bill standing on the crest of the hill overlooking them, Turbo wasn't that surprised. The candy ball had probably come to guarantee his King's place in the race, despite instructions not to. What did surprise Turbo however was seeing the heavy chains in his small green hands, and the way he expertly threw them over and around Vanellope.

Vanellope fought against the heavy chains, and with his keen eyesight Turbo saw the words 'glitch proof' engraved on them. With a grin Turbo roared the engine, slid smoothly into gear, and crashed into Vanellope at enough speed to send her kart flipping end over end.

Vanellope had somehow escaped from the chains during her tumbling crash, but Turbo was confident she would be a no-show for this race. He was prepared to follow the trail of blood leading away into the rocks, but was distracted by the appearance of Taffyta. By the guilty look on the girl's face, it seemed that she wasn't the only one who'd thought to arrive early to secure a top grid place.

With three-quarters exaggerated indulgence and one-quarter genuine respect, Turbo smiled at Taffyta and waved away her fears that she'd acted inappropriately.

With one hand he signalled for her to accept the second grid marker and, as he made eye contact with his out of breath doughnut cops, pointed with the other in the direction of the blood stained rocks.

* * *

On the Friday morning, Turbo once again finished work in the game's code room.

Vanellope still hadn't been found, and Wynnchel, Duncan and Sour Bill were wisely keeping out of his way this time.

* * *

On the Friday evening, Turbo explained that in order to enter a Random Roster Race it would now cost everyone one gold coin.

No coin, no name on the board. No name on the board, no participating in the race.

The racers shuffled uneasily and shared nervous glances. Where were they going to get gold coins from?

Turbo smiled and spread his arms wide, and the racers' attention drifted back up. Their King explained that everyone here would be given a large handful of coins, so that they could all compete. It was still early days after all, and it would be cruel of him to exclude anyone. However in the future a gold coin must be earned, because that was only fair.

The racers relaxed slightly, and Sour Bill silently passed out bags of coins to them.

Candlehead held a coin up to the sun, and squinted as golden light reflected off of it. She could understand the King's face being on one side of it, but she was confused by the three capital letters embossed on the other side. Raising her hand, she caught the King's attention and asked him.

Turbo smiled, and explained that TKC stood for The King Candy.

* * *

On the Saturday morning, Turbo received the good news that Vanellope had been caught.

Duncan had found her rummaging in the junk yard, and had clasped her in glitch proof handcuffs. Turbo made a mental note to think about thanking Sour Bill for creating those.

Vanellope was taken straight to the fungeon, where she was further chained. Turbo leaned against the cell's doorway and regarded the girl silently. Vanellope fumed, and fought against the chains with everything she had. Even when they bruised her skin, she didn't stop. She started sweating and panting from the effort, but still she didn't stop. Her eyes blazed, and she screamed that she was a real racer and it was her right to race and she needed to and she wouldn't ever ever ever ever stop trying.

Turbo knew that he couldn't keep Vanellope in the fungeon forever.

He'd told the racers that he'd banished her, but didn't say where. Everyone knew that because she was a glitch she could never leave the game, and sooner or later the racers would explore and map every inch of their world. They would become familiar with it, and realise that no sign of Vanellope had ever been seen. If she couldn't leave the game and was nowhere to be seen in it, then where was she? Turbo didn't want any attention being turned towards the castle.

But it was important Vanellope learn her place, and stop thinking such foolish thoughts about racing. She needed time to calm down, and to settle into her new life, and to be suitably worn down.

She needed to remain in the fungeon until she had learned her place in the new order of things.

Turbo nodded once to himself, as he made his decision. With one last look at Vanellope, still raging against her chains, he softly closed the door on her.

Six years in the fungeon wouldn't hurt her.

He'd spent far more time alone, and it certainly hadn't damaged him.

* * *

On the Saturday evening, Turbo finally claimed Vanellope's kart for his own.

He thought about changing the colour or making the golden crown larger, but decided against it. The kart would stay exactly as it was.

He was the game's monarch now, and he needed to act like it. The kart was designed for the ruler, and so he would use it. He needed to fully embrace his new life, and familiar things would help him do that.

The kart was an established part of the game, and soon he would be too.

* * *

On the Sunday morning, Turbo stood proudly at the head of his racers and watched the orange out of order sign peel away.

Mr. Litwak had glanced at the impeccably behaving characters, and paused for a while to regard the jolly little man with the golden crown on his head. He scratched his cheek, tutted a few times, and then sharply held a hand up to stop the technician from unplugging it. The game seemed to be working fine now, despite this new character. Maybe he was an unlockable one, and the console's recent glitch had done something to the circuits and released him ahead of schedule.

The technician readily agreed that it would be a lot of effort to exchange consoles, not to mention the expensive handling charge that was unfortunately not covered by the warranty, and yes there were probably loads of new characters waiting to be unlocked, that made sense, and this King character seemed fine and nothing to worry about. Mr. Litwak had thanked the man, and walked him back outside to his van.

Turbo and the racers smoothly continued with their standby run sequence, but their eyes were darting and their breaths were quick and shallow.

If the game was unplugged now, there wouldn't be enough time for him to escape.

* * *

On the early Sunday evening, Mr. Litwak announced Sugar Rush's _real_ grand opening.

Music blared, balloons were released, and the game was finally uncovered.

It was an immediate success, with players fighting to put their quarter in the queue and jostling one another to watch the current players.

As another race came to an end and the pre-programmed cut scene played, Turbo snuck a quick look at the calendar he'd installed in his kart.

It had been 9 days since he'd entered Sugar Rush, and in just over a week he'd reprogrammed what mattered most in a world. He'd undertaken this feat twice, and could scarcely believe his own talents and determination.

In the 216 hours since he'd found the code room he'd worked and bled and _earned_ his crown. He deserved all of this, every single bit of it, and swore that in the countless years to come, he would make the most of it.

As Turbo was selected yet again as the next player's avatar, he allowed a small triumphant smile to cross his lips.

It was good to race again, and to be wanted again, and to win again.

It was good to be himself again.

It was so _good_ to be the King again.


End file.
